


Elua's Uprising

by SweetHoney1085



Series: The Evolution of Terre D'Ange [3]
Category: Kushiel's Legacy - Jacqueline Carey
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 20:04:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 23,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5715367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetHoney1085/pseuds/SweetHoney1085
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would Terre D'Ange have looked like during the French Revolution? What sort of calamity could cause the scions of Blessed Elua to turn their back on his teachings? How will the members of the Night Court fare when their patrons no longer come to pay tribute, but instead collect adepts in the royal court like possessions? And what will happen when the Casseline Brotherhood finally takes a stand and fights for the people of the City, instead of the sovereigns they have been sworn to protect? </p><p>This is the journey of an adept of the Gentian House, and all that befell her as the City of Elua succumbed to the modern world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Have you ever watched a city burn? 

I have. I have watched, from with the locked gates of the Night Court at my back, as the City of my people, has burned to embers around me. I have felt the smoke burn my lungs, while the ashes mix with my tears, and sting my eyes. I have held the hands of my brothers and sisters in Naamah’s Service, and we have prayed for Kushiel’s mercy to see us through these times of hardship. 

It was the common folks who started it, though perhaps they had the right of it. There had been rumors for years that King Philippe de la Courcel and his foreign bride Maria Antonia had been less than prudent with the nation’s finances, throwing elaborate fêtes whenever the mood took them, eating decadent meals while poorer subjects, like those who lived in Night’s Doorstep, or in the countryside, starved. 

I, being an adept of the Gentian House, had seen this coming of course, though one needed not the foresight that our house trains us in to predict the downfall of the Royal Family. The de la Courcel family has ruled Terre D’Ange since Blessed Elua and his companions went on to Terre D’Ange that lies beyond. They had always been a benevolent monarchy, and the people had loved their Kings and Queens since they had first taken the throne. They were, after all, the direct scions of Blessed Elua himself. But, over the generations, their devotion to Elua and his precept, Love as thou wilt began to wane slightly. At some point, the reverence He was due became less important to our monarchs, and they grew more inclusive as a group, drawing the peers of the realm in with them. Fêtes were thrown, and gold squandered. 

The peerage rarely visited the Night Court anymore, preferring instead to have adepts sent to court as “tributes” once they had come of age. The most frequent patrons we received now were common folk, merchants mostly, and visiting dignitaries to the City, who wanted to get a taste of “Traditional D’Angeline Hospitality”.

A generation earlier, we had sent explorers off to Terra Nova, now called Giovannia, to try and seek more fortune, but alas, we had been beaten there by travelers from Aragonia and Alba, who staked their claim on different parts of the continent long before we had a chance to do the same. Our losses on these excursions were insurmountable, but the Royal Family never seemed to notice. 

Eventually, the patronage in the Night Court in the had slowed to but a trickle, and our houses could no longer bear the cost of maintaining those adepts who had made their marque to completion, and they were sent away.

Those courtesans who had made their marques, and were no longer considered adepts, and thusly were no longer the House’s responsibility were urged to find refuge elsewhere, such as in one of the Temples for example. Those of the Gentian House have long moved on to positions within the Temples of Naamah and Elua, and so the transition was not so abrupt for us. In other houses though, such as Dahlia, Eglantine and Camellia, the change was vast. 

Dahlia was the house that catered to those with a fashionable, dignified air, and they often had difficulty humbling themselves as was necessary for a priest or priestess. So too faired those of Camellia, who’s canon was “Perfection”. A life of service dedicated to the pleasure of yourself and others is not a difficult vow for such adepts to make, but a vow of piety, and generosity is more difficult for some. It was the courtesans from Eglantine, though, that had the most trouble. For they were the artists, the creators, and what good were they to the clergy? Eglantine adepts tumbled, and painted and sewed. True, some of them were able to find work amongst the peerage, as clothiers, as personal scribes and artists, etcetera. But many of them floundered, and found employ of a less distinguished nature, some as ladies maids, while others sold their wares (and their bodies betimes as well) along the streets of our once thriving City. 

I had only taken my vows the prior year, and so was not granted leave to evacuate the Night Court, as my older sisters and brothers were. 

“There is work yet to be done here,” said our Dowayne, Felix Hermodorus, “and it is not meet to shirk your obligations, to not complete your vows to Naamah.”

Things weren’t that bad yet, and none of knew what unrest would eventually come. How could we have? Only a handful of times, in all of D’Angeline history, have there been cases of Civil War. And the last time it was only because of a spell brought on by a foreign prince, who had designs to take over Terre D’Ange for himself. Since then, all our battles (and there have been few) have been fought against other counties. True, we did help Giovannia to fight for their independence against Alba, but again, that fight was not on our soil. The idea that our country would fold in on itself, eventually engulfing the City of Elua into the fray, was nearly unthinkable. 

But, after the most recent Longest Night, when no member of Elua’s line came to pay tribute to the Winter Queen and Sun Prince, rumblings of discontent began to rise from the lower quarters of the City, and members of the Night Court, who had prepared for this moment, finally put our plan into action. 

I am Isabel Fleurais, and I survived what came to be known as “Elua’s Uprising”.


	2. My Formative Years

I was born in the fortieth year of our lord, King Rolande de la Courcel’s reign. I never knew much of him though, as King Phillipe de la Courcel took over the throne the following year. He had married a charming Skaldic girl, named Marie-Antonia when they were both quite young. It was a marriage of alliance between our countries, as the Skaldic had been our fierce enemies for a time, and had been uneasy allies in the years since. Marie-Antonia was fairer than many Skaldic women, some said she might even have a touch of D’Angeline in her blood. Who can know for sure? It wouldn’t have surprised me to learn as much. 

This was naught of my concern though, I was born to a Priestess of Naamah, who was in the midst of her “Year of Joy,” during which she could turn none away who sought her out of genuine desire when I was conceived. My mother was a widow, who had lit her candle to Eisheth with her husband many years before. Though they were never blessed with children of their own, my mother told me that I reminded her of her late husband in many ways. I was raised in the Temple of Naamah within the City of Elua, and as such I received an extensive education in Her arts, as well as in the love of Elua. 

I knew from an early age that I ore more than a passing resemblance to my mother, we shared the same wild copper hair, though hers was usually covered with a blue veil made of light gauze, while mine was a mess of tangles and knots from the time I was small. Our eyes were brilliantly green, and while mine shone with excitement, my mother’s were tempered with the gravity of her loss. 

When I think back on my childhood, the memory I have above all others is of wafting red gauze, floating around me like mist. The Priestesses of Naamah wear read robes, as an outward representation of Her passion. Yes, mists of red, and the smell of incense and desire, mingling always together. 

I remember Brother Moran, who was the Head Priest of our Temple, and how he would pull us children (there were about five of us, I believe), and tousle our hair and give us sweets. And he would tell us all about Blessed Elua. He would regail us with the tales of Elua and His Companions, and how he had been captured by the King of Persis, but it was Naamah who laid with him, and was able to negotiate for Elua’s freedom. Brother Moran also told us stories about the Anguissette who carried the Name of God on her tongue, and released an ancient daemon from his curse at the bottom of the sea, thus freeing the straights for crossing for the rest of time. 

I found succor in these tales, for my mother had little enough time to raise me herself. It is not that she had no interest in me, on the contrary, but she seldom had the time needed to give me the attention I desired. Once I had reached the age of ten, it became time for a decision to be made. 

“She could be fostered in the countryside, by my late husband’s kinsmen?” I overheard my mother saying one night.

“You could have done that years ago, if there were your choice. Do you truly wish for the child to be sent away? Surely no harm could come to her within the Night Court.”

“Were Her Service held in the same regard that it once was, then mayhap, but the patronage that the adepts receive these days, well it isn’t quite the same now, is it Brother?”

I could hear his answer in his silence. And I had heard tell from others as well, the nobles of Terre D’Ange no longer frequented the Court of the Night Blooming Flowers as they once had, in its heyday. It had become the fashion for noble families to purchase the marques of particularly exquisite adepts, and bring them to Court to serve as “tributes” there. Playthings for the wealthy. Even at my young age I knew what became of those adepts. They were still given leave to make their marques, of course. Even the Royal Family of Terre D’Ange would dare to blaspheme so that Her Servants would be unable to earn their freedom, and to be honored with Her marque on their backs. 

Once their marques were made, however, they frequently decided to remain in Court. Some of them wed their noble patrons, and gained stature of their own in the bargain, while others chose to open salon, which catered exclusively to their “higher” clientele. Usually the domain of all courtesans of the Night Court, fortune and acclaim now found only a select few.   
“What about Gentian?” He asked her after a time. 

My mother was silent as she pondered his words. I squeezed my eyes shut, and prayed with all my might that she might consent, as I knew that Gentian was a House of mysticism, and that adepts from that house often went on to become priests or priestesses once their marques were made. After a few moment, I had my answer.

“Alright,” my mother acquiesced, “I will speak with Isabela. If she agrees, and wishes to dedicate herself so, then I will not stand in her way.”

I rushed back to my room then, as quickly as I could while making nary a sound. I hurled myself into my bed, and drew the covers up to my chin. I pulled out my book, a copy of The Euline Cycle, while was coming undone at the seams from being so thoroughly perused over the years. 

I heard my mother’s small, quiet footsteps approaching my door, and then her gentle rap to see if I was awake.

“Come in,” I called. 

My mother walked, almost timidly, through the door, and sat at the foot of my tiny bed. She looked so lovely to me that night, her face as fair as fresh cream, and her hair the color honey. Her green eyes sparkled with tears, as she told me that I had reached the age where I was to be fostered.

“Were your father alive,” she began slowly, “you would be fostered by his family, in Namarre. Perhaps I would even take a position at Naamah’s Temple there…” she faded off slowly. I didn’t bother reminding her that her late husband was not my father. I knew well enough already that it was a dream she had, that I had been borne out of their love, rather than by a stranger whose face she could not remember. 

“As things stand though,” she continued, shaking the fog from her mind, “that is not an option. I wish for you to have your best chance at a positive future, and that is to be found in the Night Court. You’ll have naught to fear in the Gentian House, and Brother Moran has given me assurances that is where you will be fostered. He was trained in the Gentian House himself, and still has connections to the Dowayne there.”

I bowed my head modestly, and said, “I will of course do whatever my mother and Brother Moran wish. And, as I love Elua, I wish to be of service as well.”

With these things decided, arrangements were made and I was residing in the Night Court within a fortnight. I was put into a room with three other girls the same age as I was, we were to go through our training together. Rebekah ben Ximen, a Yeshuite girl whose family had fallen on hard times, and she had joined Gentian House that she might find a better life for herself in Naamah’s Service; Moirethe nó Gentian, who had been raised in the Gentian House. Her father was a Gentian adept, as was her mother. Lastly there was Celeste nó Gentian, whose marque had been purchased from the Alyssum House. 

Rebekah had long brown hair and the serious brown eyes of a Yeshuite scholar. As was the tradition of her people, her hair had never been cut, and it hung down to her waist when she wore it down. She was slight of build, and she had an almost exotic look to her, though she was half D’Angeline by birth. 

Moirethe fit the canon of our house to a T, as well she ought what with her lineage stemming directly from Gentian stock on both sides. Her hair was long and the color of ash. It hung like a shimmering grey-brown curtain around her shoulders. Her eyes too were grey, but they held a gentle sweetness.

Celeste had hair as pale yellow as to be almost white. Her eyes were large and blue, and she trembled almost viscerally at the slightest provocation. This was not surprising, as she had come from Alyssum House, whose motto is With Eyes Averted, and trade in modesty. She told us, her eyes downcast, that she had been proclaimed “too spirited” for the Alyssum House, and had thusly been sent here instead. 

There were other apprentices as well, of course. There was Benoit nó Gentian, who had also been raised within the walls of the House, and his twin brother Faragon. They were mirror images of one another, with their black hair curling softly around their shoulders, and their orange eyes that glowed like a hearth. There was also Ghislain de Fhirze, who was some two years older than the other boys. And last, but certainly not least, was Gavin de Toluard, the son of the Marquis de Toluard, from Siovale. 

Gavin was every bit the Siovalese lordling, even at the tender age of eleven. He was a third son, and was not in line to inherit anything from his family. Rather that submit to an advantageous marriage, he had decided that he wanted to serve Elua and Naamah, and to possibly enter the priesthood upon the completion of his marque. He had long, blonde hair that fell like corn silk, and pale blue eyes. Had he been a second son, he would have been sent to join the Cassiline Brotherhood, as his older brother had, but Gavin had made his decision to enter Naamah’s Service on his own, and no one ever faulted him for the choice he made.

These were my friends, my siblings. We trained together, and ate and slept together. The boys were in their own room of course, right down the hall from our chamber.

We were given little enough time to make each other’s acquaintance though, as we were to start our apprenticeships straightaway. We were first evaluated, to see where our individual strengths and weaknesses lie. In the art of serving, for example Rebekah and Moirethe excelled. Rebekah has been serving her elders since she was old enough to carry a ewer, and Moirethe had been subjected to Gentian’s exacting standards her whole life as well. Celeste was able to pour glasses of wine with some skill, though she continued to tremble so that the glass tipped over, wine staining the tablecloth. I, who had even less practice serving, could barely lift the pitcher when it was my turn. Still, I managed to pour the wine while spilling only a couple drops. Gavin fared better than I, though he had even less training in the art of serving. As gracefully as a Dahlia adept, he lifted the ewer, and poured wine into several glasses. There wasn’t even a drip along the side of the glass, he had poured so nicely. 

We were taught the onerous task of cleaning, which of course most of us were already used to. Gentian, though, had strict guidelines on how our chambers were to be kept, how our beds were to be made, and how our linens were to be washed. 

Not all of our training had to do with the day to day maintenance of our House however. We received much the same training as adepts in other houses, we read the Trois Milles Joies, The Ecstatica, The Journey of Naamah, and The Log of Seven Hundred Kisses. There were other texts that we studied too of course, A Dance of Minds, A Dream of the Future, and Visions de la Mystique. We studied dreams, and the reading of cards. On more than one occasion, we had a Tsagini woman come into our House, and she spoke to us of the dromonde, what the Tsagini women use to peer into the future. 

For those who have been initiated, you will know of what I speak. For those who do not though, it is a mystery that I am forbidden to share. Let it be enough to know that my studies were thorough, and I became quite skilled at dream interpretation, and I was known to dabble in some light divination as the mood struck. 

My debut was very exciting for me, I fetched a reasonably high patron fee for my first assignation, though it broke no records, I was pleased with it nonetheless. My first assignation was with Micheline Brennin, a young wife of a merchant in The City. She had been plagued by dreams of her deceased mother for months, and felt that I could help her to find resolution. I am sworn to keep secret the readings that I perform for my patrons, but suffice it to say that Madame Brennin was not displeased with the reading I gave her, and I received word later that she had, in fact, been able to move on.


	3. A Chance Meeting and a Change of Perspective

And so things went on for a time. For a year or more life went on as expected. I developed close friendships with my fellow Gentian adepts, most especially with Gavin and Rebekah.   
Slowly, though, our patrons reduced greatly in numbers, and our House was forced to send away any adept who had already made their marque. We were no longer bringing in enough money to support such a large house, filled with so many. In truth, Gentian is one of the smaller houses, for we specialize in the deeper mysteries of the soul and thusly retain fewer adepts upon completion than other houses. And so, we felt the sting of recession before other houses perhaps. 

Still, other houses needed to send forth their lingering adepts as well, for no one could afford the upkeep of an adept who was receiving to patrons. The Dowaynes of the Night Court conferred with one another, and it was decreed that any who were able ought to seek sanctuary within one of the Temples of Naamah, or Elua. To take vows if possible, that we might be taken care of. Some Valerian adepts went to Kushiel’s Temple as well, where they would be best suited. 

Those of us who were still working towards our marques were kept within the safety of the walls that surrounded the Night Court. Not in living memory was there recollection of a time when those gates had ever been closed, but now they were locked on a nightly basis, separating us from the world outside. When I was in my seventeenth year, a curfew was put into effect, and all adepts were needed back behind the walls before night fell. 

Some were grateful for this isolation, as protests in the streets were growing more frequent now, men and women standing on boxes and corners, causing outcry over the de la Courcel family, and their disinterest in the common D’Angeline. Prices for necessities like bread and meat were soaring, which was yet another reason our patronage was so low as of late. And yet still, from outside the walls of the castle, we could hear the festivities taking place almost nightly, as though they had not a notice or care in the world for those of us starving on the outside. 

During the day though, we were still permitted to venture out into the City. Trips to the Merchant District were still needed, and to the Market as well. 

One bright morning, I was out for such an excursion, attended by Faragon nó Gentian. We were headed to market to get provisions for our House for the next week. We were half way to the Market, walking along Rue de Lèvres, when I heard a voice ringing out passionately from just ahead of us.

“…and that is why we must act! The King and Queen, they do not care for us! Why should they have a fête again this evening, when you and your families have naught but stale bread to eat? My brothers and I may have entered into a life of austerity in Cassiel’s honor, but the rest of you did not! The time is coming when we may have to stand up against our oppressors, and fight for our freedom, should it be needful!”

I heard his voice before I saw him, but when he came into full view I saw that he was indeed a member of the Cassiline Brotherhood. He stood on a box, handing out sheets of parchment to passersby, and was surrounded by three other Cassilines, all looking far too set for defensive maneuvers if the opportunity should arise. There was no mistaking them, they were all clad in the somber grey robes of a Cassiline, their hair pulled back into a club knot, vambrances laced about their forearms and daggers at the ready. 

Faragon and I continued walking past them, though I accepted the parchment one of the Brothers thrust into my face. The parchment spoke of a rally that would be going on one week hence, at an inn named The Cockerel, in Night’s Doorstep. 

“Such nonsense,” Faragon said contemptuously, “those damned Cassilines are going to find themselves disbanded, or declared anathema if they keep up these demonstrations.”  
I kept my mouth shut, but tossed a last glance over my shoulder at the Cassiline atop the box, strands of blonde hair loosening themselves from his club knot as he spoke passionately to those who would listen. 

I spent the week sleeping with the flyer under my pillow, and staring ponderously at it at every given opportunity. There was something about the words he had spoken, he had such conviction in his voice. 

The night of the rally, I snuck out of my chambers, and down the long corridor of our House. I slipped out the front gates, and walked down the empty streets of the Night Court. It felt odd to see the streets so bereft of people. As far back as I could recall, the avenues had always been filled with D’Angelines, adepts and patrons alike, late into the night. It was unsettling.   
I made my way to the gates that stood between the Night Court and Night’s Doorstep, the Tsagini district. I had dressed myself in a loose fitting shift apurpose, the better to make my way over the wall. I had never scaled such a wall before, and I had no training in acrobatics of any sort really; but I was determined to attend this gathering, and to hear what those outside of the Night Court had to say about the goings on of the Nation. 

Cautiously, I worked my way up the wall, digging my toes and fingertips into any crevice deep enough to house them. I wedged my elbow into a place on the wall that looked as though it had been gouged out, perhaps at some battle long past. After a time, certainly less than a half an hour, I had made my way up to the top of the wall, and I straddled it with my legs dangling on each side of me. I looked out as far as I could see in each direction, and looked up as well, at the stars twinkling above me. 

Blessed Elua, I prayed, please guide my feet tonight, that I may be safe in your arms as I make my way through the City that was once yours. And Shemhazai guard me ears, that I hear nothing feckless in impotent. I kissed the palms of my hands, and pressed them together and then up to the heavens in silent offering to Elua and his Companions, that they might safeguard me this night. 

Making my way back down the wall was harder that I had estimated it would be, with no rope or blanket to rappel my way down, I was left to hold tight to the stone edifice, which reached some 12 feet in height, and do my best to shimmy down it. I managed somewhat, eventually losing my grip and dropping the final 5 feet or so to the ground landing hard on my feet and dropping quickly to my knees. 

I felt the impact of my landing reverberating up through my limbs, giving me cause to tremble slightly. I quickly shook the feeling off though, stood up, and began making my way down the darkened path to the Cockerel. 

The merry lighting of the tavern betrayed none of the secretive goings on within its walls. I pushed the door open and made my way inside hesitantly, unsurprised to find that the rally had already begun. A different man, this one not of the Cassiline Brotherhood, stood before the crowd atop the bar at the rear of the room. He was mid-sentence and I preened my ears to better hear him.

“And how do you think Blessed Elua would feel if he could see our country today? To see his people starving in the streets, while his scions eat cake and cream up in their castle? When is the last time any one of you has seen a member of the peerage venture outside of Court? How many of Naamah’s Servants are making their marques over the course of ten, fifteen, even twenty years, when it once took only a fraction of that time? Adepts are growing wizened with age, and yet their marques remain incomplete. 

I myself work as a scribe here in the City, and have had reason to go to Court on occasion to take down their correspondence. I have seen the depravity of our so called ‘King and Queen’. They make a mockery of all that we have built over centuries of hard work and dedication. That we have believed in Elua’s precept above all things and now we falter is no accident, for our King has wed his Skaldic wife not out of love, but only as an alliance of nations. And it is she who has twisted our monarch to her blasphemous ways!”

The man atop the bar was seething with anger, the words poured from his mouth like laudanum, sweet yet deadly. It would be far too easy to get swept up in the frenzy that surrounded me, the other patrons of the tavern shaking their fists and raising their voices in agreement in turn. I found myself suddenly wondering how and why I had even come to be here at all, when I could be safe behind the walls of the Night Court, warm in my own bed and oblivious to all this dissention taking place within the City I so loved. I turned to leave the tavern, and return to my home, but I found myself walking right into a young Cassiline Brother; not the one I had seen earlier in the week, but another, this one fair, with his wheat blonde hair tied back in its club knot, a few errant strands of hair framing his delicate face. 

There was no mistaking him for ought than a Siovalese Brother, his features gave that much away in an instant. He was tall and lean, his face angular and his eyes the same shade of blue as the summer sky. Light-footed as he was, he tried to step out of my path, but the Cockerel was too crowded and we collided despite his efforts. 

“Apologies,” I said, the word spilling from my lips as a force of habit.

“The fault is mine, I should had paid more heed to where I was going.”

I made to move past him, but I felt his hand catch my shoulder and hold me in place.

“You’re leaving?”

“I..I’m not sure that I’m meant to be here…” my voice trailed off uncertainly.

A very un-Cassiline smirk played upon his mouth, “and why is that little one?”

“I, well, I should be at home, where it is safe.”

“At home? Have you snuck out past your protective parents to listen to the rebels speak rebellious words?”

He was mocking me, but gently and in a teasing fashion that I found I did not mind so much. Still, I wasn’t sure it would be meet to tell him that I had come from the Night Court, and I considered fabricating a story about myself to tell him.

“No…” he said slowly, “you haven’t the look of a merchant’s daughter about you…and besides, what would a merchant’s daughter be doing in Night’s Doorstep at this time of evening?”   
He looked me up and down, taking my full measure. I saw his eyes widen slightly as realization came over him.

“You’re from the Night Court, aren’t you?”

“Please,” I urged him, “keep your voice down! I cannot be discovered outside of the Night Court Walls past curfew, and I certainly oughtn’t to be seen at a gathering for…” 

“Traitorous radicals?”

I felt me face suffuse with blood, “I shouldn’t be here. It was a mistake to come…I’ll be going now.”

I shook his hand from my shoulder and made my way out onto the cold street. As I heard the door closed behind me, I was aware of his presence as well. 

“I’m Marius,” he said behind me. 

The night air was cool on my skin, despite it being springtime, and I wished I had brought a shawl. It would have been too cumbersome to carry over the wall though, and so I just rubbed my hands over my arms for warmth.

“Isabel,” I responded, turning back to face him. 

There was a gentle breeze blowing, and it carried with it the fragrant scent of nicotiana blossoms, which only bloom at night. Their leaves can be dried and smoked in pipes, but the white trumpet flowers smell like ripened strawberries. 

My hair had long since fell out of its cowl, and was blowing around me like a halo of wildfire. I was well aware of the ethereal effect it had on my appearance, and had in fact used it to my advantage when meeting with patrons in the past. Marius took three long steps, quickly closing the gap between us, and I stepped back out of impulse. 

“You came here for a reason,” he said softly, brushing a single curl behind my ear.

“I did…I came here tonight because I heard one of the Brothers speaking in the Market the other day, and his words…they stirred something within me. I’m not sure what though.”  
“The world is changing Isabel, countries like Alba and Aragonia are spreading out into the greater world. And while Terre D’Ange used to be at the forefront of that charge, we have been held fast as of late by our monarchs. Nations like Giovannia see no need for sovereigns at all, instead following the old Tiberium model of democracy. And why should we be so stunted as a people? Ought we not to evolve and grow as these other nations have done?”

I had no response to give him, for in truth none of these matters had ever crossed my mind. Since the time of Blessed Elua, we have been governed by the de la Courcel family and the scions of Elua and his Companions. 

“You have given me much to think about mesire Marius. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must get back home before I am missed.”

“Of course my lady. May your journey home be a safe one.” 

With that, he swept me a traditional Cassiline bow, vambrances crossed before him, then he turned on his heel and returned to the warmth of the tavern inside. 

I made my way back to the gates o0f the Night Court and found a small hole in the wall, one that an animal might have used to burrow beneath it, and discovered that it was just large enough for me to squeeze through, though it was a tight fit. Once I was back in my room, I slipped into my bed and under the covers. My eyes were sliding shut, when I heard Marius’ words in my head again, “Why should we be so stunted as a people? Ought we not to grow and evolve as these other nations have done?”

With such deep things to ponder, I found that sleep was more difficult to find that it usually was.


	4. A Dream and a Plan

The heat consumed me. All around, I saw nothing but flames, burning turrets and parapets, horses racing about with their eyes rolling in their heads, their flanks foaming white. 

I heard the shrieks of men and women alike, and saw children abandoned on the street, huddled together as though they could protect one another. 

I saw Kushiel’s bronze statue tumbling to the ground, surrounded by glowing embers and desiccated rubble. 

Orange, red, green and purple. The flames licked at my legs, and the sword I held in my hand faltered. I could smell my hair as the curls caught fire and singed, the curls crimping tighter on themselves. 

From high atop a distant mountain, I saw King Phillipe de la Courcel and his Queen Marie-Antonia standing hand in hand. They were glowing with a radiant light that seemed to blot out all other color, the fires dimmed around me as the light expanded, and then they vanished. 

The heat engulfed me, and then there was a flash of red, then blackness as I saw no more. 

I awoke in a pool of sweat, though I was shivering as if it were the dead of winter. I looked out my window and saw that the sun was only just rising, breakfast wouldn’t be served for another hour at least, and our lessons and assignations would take place even later than that. I glanced around my room, but saw that my sisters were all still sleeping soundly. This surprised me slightly, because we are Gentian, and so we share a closer bond that what the adepts of other houses usually do. When one of us has ill dreams, the others usually sense it.   
It had been two weeks since the rally at the Cockerel, and I had slept poorly every night since. I’d had no dreams, however, that had been so vivid, and seemed to offer prophecy. 

I walked to the bathing room, and cleansed myself of the sticky sweat that still clung to my skin. The cool water was refreshing, and I scrubbed my body all over with a blend of walnut oil and salt, sloughing the dead skin and sweat from me. In past years, this blend was used daily by adepts to help keep our skin youthful and to retain moisture. The walnuts are grown in the valleys of Siovale, where the rich earth is fertile and can grow the hearty nuts just so. In more recent years, however, adequate provisions have not been sent to the farmers, and so the crops have failed, making the oil precious. We had been advised to use this salt scrub only on special occasions, that we might not run out. 

Feeling that I had had a dream which might indeed be prophetic, I felt that deserved a special treat. I also wanted to rid myself of the unclean feeling that the dream had left me with.  
Hopping out of the bath, I clothed myself, choosing a dress of pale yellow, which flowed freely around my body. It was made of thinly woven cotton and was ideal for the warm weather. The very cotton from which my dress was made was another concession of the times, for I’ve heard tell that when the Night Court was at its height the adepts wore day robes and dresses made of finely spun linen, and cauls of gold and silver mesh. As it was, I wound my hair in a lovers-haste-knot, and belted my dress with a wide blue ribbon. 

I walked down the hall, and out to our meditation space, located outside the house proper, but still within the walls of Gentian. There was a large yew tree which has belonged to Gentian House since its inception. It has been said that the tree is over 700 years old. The yew tree, we are taught, has long been associated with divination, astral travel, and communication between the realms. I mostly enjoyed sitting beneath its long branches, and against its thick gnarled trunk, feeling the sun’s warmth beam down through the leaves. 

The sun was not yet up though, and the tree already had a supplicant beneath it. Gavin was kneeling at its base, his head bent and he was obviously deep in prayer. I moved to leave and give him his privacy, but he looked up and saw me almost as soon as I had noticed him.

“Isabel,” he said, his voice breaking the early morning silence, “Good morning.”

“Good morning Gavin. Forgive me, I did not mean to intrude on your meditation.”

He rose and walked over to me, reaching out his hand, “Not at all. Please, will you join me?”

I took his hand, and together we sat beneath the mighty yew. I leaned against it, in a spot where there was a small crevice that acted almost as a backrest. It was my favorite spot in the world, and where I always came in times of contemplation. Gavin sat facing me, his face solemn. 

“You are not often up this early Isabel, has something woken you?”

I hesitated only a moment before telling him about my dream, for while Gavin was my brother in the eyes of our Dowayne, I had long known that he harbored romantic feelings for me as well. Fraternization of that sort between adepts is expressly forbidden, and a good number of Naamah’s Servants have been sent from Her houses, marques incomplete, as punishment for disobeying that rule. Even so, he was one of my closest friends, and I felt the need to unburden myself of the visions I had seen.

His pale blue eyes went wide as I told him of my dream, though he said not a word until I had finished. Once I was done, he took both my hands into his, and looked me in the eye. In the gravest of tones, he told me that he had had the same dream. 

“I awoke an hour ago, still seeing that damned light, and feeling the flames lick my skin. Never before have I felt so hot, so afraid.” 

“T’was the same for me, and I looked around my room to see if any of my sisters had had the same dream, but they all slept soundly.”

“My brothers as well,” he said, his voice troubled, “do you think we ought to inform the Dowayne?”

“To what purpose?” I asked him, exasperated. Our Dowayne could not help us, no one could should there be an uprising against the King and Queen. 

“I don’t know!” he said, burying his face in his hands, “but I know that we cannot simply sit and do nothing, not if our entire country is to fall. Should the City burn, what do you think will happen to us? Do you want to flee to the countryside, or to Caerdicca Unitas, to live as some despised whore in a filthy brothel? Do you wish to take your chances in Giovannia, some untried land filled with savages and radicals?”

T’was the word “radicals” that caught my mind. I remembered that night at the Cockerel, and how passionately the Cassiline Brothers had spoken about change. A revolution, that was what they wanted I had no doubt, and it was not impossible that they would burn The City to guarantee their success. 

Still the thought of the Cassilines gave me an idea, one I quickly shared with Gavin.

“What if…what if we were to seek training in defense?”

He looked at me with confusion on his face, his brows knit together uncomprehending.

“We are trained in the arts of pleasure, and the reading of dreams Isabel, we soothe the pain of others. We do not inflict it ourselves.”

“No, you are misunderstanding Gavin. I’m not suggesting that we inflict pain on anyone! I’m saying that we must learn to defend ourselves; should strife and ruin befall our city, this city and country that we so love, we must be able to protect ourselves, and any others that we are able to.”

Gavin inclined his head, and his expressing turned considering, “That is not a bad idea, but how would we learn these skills? Who would teach us? We are not likely to receive such training in Gentian. The best we could hope for would be Valerian or Mandrake, and they have no cause to aid us. And even if they should deign to train us in their arts, I doubt that we could adequately defend ourselves with a cat o’nine tales, or a set of flechettes.”

I smiled at Gavin, pleased with the plan formulating in my mind.

I confided in him about the rally I attended two weeks past, the Cassiline Brothers and how they were already mounting an uprising of some sort, one I hoped would be peaceable, though I didn’t expect it. 

“What if they were willing to train us? Us, and other Servants of Naamah. There are many of us, I believe, who would be willing to take up arms in defense of the Night Court, and The City of Elua as a whole.”

Gavin looked at me dubiously, “And why would they be willing to do this? We are but lowly Servants of Naamah in their eyes.”

“This is true, but remember the stories of old? Joscelin Verreuil the Cassiline who was declared anathema because of his devotion to the anguissette Phèdre nó Delaunay?”

“Of course I do. We’ve all read the Kusheline Cycle, as well as the Ballad de Verreuil. What have they to do with us?”

“What if I were to seduce once of the Brothers I have seen at the rally, and convince him to train us? These Brothers are already more liberal that Brothers in the past have been known to be, what is to say that one of them will not fall for my charms?”

“You speak as though you already have a target in mind.”

My mind drifted away then to thoughts of Marius, the Cassiline Knight with wheat blonde hair. I wondered how long it was, when removed from its club knot. Cassilines do not traditionally cut their hair, and he had obviously been several years my sire, so I imagined it to be quite long.

“No, of course I don’t. I have only just met these rebels the once, and I only spoke to one Brother that night, and briefly at that. Today is the day that I typically go into the marketplace for provisions, while there I shall keep an eye out for any of the Cassilines, or any other rebels, and try to learn whatever I might. Once I get more information, we can begin to plot in earnest.”

Gavin smirked at me, and nodded his head slowly, “For an idea that just entered your head, this is certainly a well formulated one Isabel.”

“Thank you,” I laughed, “I just hope that it is as successful as it is well formed.”


	5. A Plan Commences

It was far from difficult to find Marius. He was grouped with several other Cassilines near the same shop they had been situated last time I’d seen them, over a month earlier. No one was atop a box, preaching this time, but instead they were handing out pamphlets to passerby’s, and encouraging conversation with them. 

Marius was deep in discussion with one of his brothers, the warm sun causing his pale blonde hair to glitter like gold in the light. I stood a good ways off, but he raised his pale blue eyes and met with mine from well down the street. 

Excusing himself from his conversation, he walked with long strides across the square to where I stood. 

“If it isn’t the runaway adept?” he asked, a smirk in his voice as well as on his face.

“If it isn’t the traitorous radical?” I countered, shocked at my own daring. 

“Hah! I knew I had you pegged for an adept of Orchis!” 

Slyly, I smiled, cocked my hip, and asked him, “Whatever makes you think so milord Cassiline?”

“Your humor, for one. And your wild hair for another. I knew right away that you could not be Alyssum, as you had the temerity to come to the rally in the first place. You appear to be unscathed in the flesh, and so you are not of Mandrake. You are not haughty enough to hail from Dahlia.”

“If I asked you to make a wager regarding my house you might assume I am an adept of Bryony,” I suggested playfully, enjoying this game.

Marius chuckled and replied, “No, I believe I have the right of it. Orchis, for your humor, your red hair, and for your smile. Tell me, Isabel, am I right?”

I hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether or not to speak plainly with him. In the end, I chose honesty. 

“No, milord, I am Gentian.”

He rocked back on his heels, obviously surprised by the news.

“I’d not have made that connection, you do not seem to have that…numinosity that many adepts of your house bear.”

“And have you known many Gentians milord?”

“Please, my name is Marius. I insist you call me as such.”

I bobbed my head in assent, “of course Marius. I remember your name, and was merely resting on decorum.”

We stood in silent for a moment.

“You have yet to answer my question, Marius,” his name enunciated for effect.

“What question was that, Isabel?”

“Have you known many Gentians?”

“Ah! No, not many. My mother was a Gentian in her youth, but upon making her marque she made the choice to leave service and wed my father. Thusly, I am familiar with the general air of a Gentian, but besides her I’ve known no adepts personally.”

“Pity.”

He shrugged, “I have my vows. I did not make the choice to enter Cassiel’s Brotherhood, but I do not regret the decisions that were made on my behalf. I have as good a life as any man can expect. To know a woman may be a fine thing, but it is my lot to protect and serve, that others may know joy, and pleasure, and safety.”

“And how, Marius, do your plots adhere with your vows?”

He looked up, rising his hand to his chin, stroking it consideringly. He was obviously weighing his words. 

“I protect and serve the people of Terre D’Ange. True, my vows are to the crown, but in my heart, I believe it to be far more important to serve the realm itself, and those that dwell within our borders. To damnation and beyond, to my last breath, I shall defend our citizens.”

I smiled up at him. He was a good head and a half taller than I, and the difference in height was enticing. 

“May I speak with you somewhere more private Marius?”

“You appear to enjoy saying my name, now that I’ve given you leave to say it,” he said with a smirk. 

I blushed, so that I was certain my face was the same color as my hair. I pressed my lips together and peered my green eyes out from beneath my long lashes. I knew how to seduce a man, I had been learning the techniques for nearly 8 years now. But rarely had I felt such a flame in my own heart. 

“It is a fine name,” I replied, “Now, may we speak?”

“Being well aware that I oughtn’t to go alone with such a lovely young woman, I still find myself reticent to decline.”

After he informed his Brothers where he would be going, I allowed Marius to lead the way to a small Tavern, where we found a small table where we could speak privately. The serving girl brought us each a tankard of ale, as well as a crust of bread, with a small hunk of bright orange cheese upon which to sate our appetites. 

“Tell me, I sable, why have you requested such a private audience? Now that I am no longer under my Brothers’ line of sight, what do you intend to do with me?”

I laughed aloud at that, but maintained my calm nonetheless.

“I have no great designs upon you. I merely wished to hear more about your cause, why it matters so to you, and what, if anything, you and your compatriots actually plan to do with the passion you profess to have.”

“Of course. You wish to know if we have the brass to back up the words we speak. Well and so, young one. Of course we wish for there to be reform in our once great nation, but we are not foolhardy enough to stage a coup if that is what you are asking. Radicals, yes we may be, but not traitors to the crown.”

This was not the answer I had hoped for. My disappointment must have shown on my face, for a small smile began to grown across Marius’s face, and he asked me, “Why do you ask, little mage? Are you seeking to overthrow the sovereigns of this country yourself? With a gaggle of adepts behind you?”

I tried to blink the rage out of my eyes, but to no avail, “No! That is not what I wish to do. I am an adept of Gentian, sworn to serve Naamah, and to leave peace and pleasure in my stead.”

My hurt was plain, and he switched his tone quickly, “Why do you ask then?”

There was no mockery in his voice this time, only a very Cassiline somberness. Still, I hesitated.

“Ah…Elua…I wish to trust you Marius…”

“With what? What has brought you from the Night Court, so intent on finding me and inquiring about the cause? What causes such strife to fill your eyes, the same color as the hills where I was raised?”

I sucked in my breath, and told him of my dream. I told him that it was a true dream, a vision shared by one of my Gentian brothers, and that we feared revolution was imminent. We were worried for the safety of our brethren, as well as our own. We sought help, and training. 

While telling him all of this, I gently placed my hand on his. Marius flinched slightly when first I rested it there, but after a moment of two he had relaxed and accepted its presence. 

“That is quite a vision, little mage. And you believe it to be true you say?”

“I do. I have been trained for most of my life to know if the things I dream are portends of what is to come, and I know this vison shall come to pass. And I am not a mage.”

His mouth quirked at that last bit. 

“You asked why this movement is so important to me, and those who believe as I do?”

“I do.”

“Look across the sea. Alba has lost its holding in Giovannia, they sought their independence and won it through bloodshed and will. They achieved their freedom form the tyranny of Alba with the aid of Terre D’Ange, and I believe it only right that we have the same freedom. 

King Phillipe and his spendthrift Queen are running our country into poverty. We shall be bankrupted as a nation ere long. Maria-Antonia comes from an uncivilized nation, one that has lusted after the finery of Terre D’Ange for generations, not beginning with Waldemar Selig. Now that they finally have a hold here, they have taken all they want, like a parasite, sucking the lifeblood from our people. 

We assisted Giovannia in procuring their independence, as I said, and yet we asked them for nothing in return. We have no holdings of land, we received no gold for our efforts. Many men from the King’s army left to go and fight in their foreign war, and lost their lives, all on the king’s whim. He has made poor decisions in regard to foreign policy, and worse one still domestically. 

In summary, there is no way we can continue on the way we have been. Our citizens will starve in the country, as they are already beginning to in the streets. Something must be done, changes must be made.”

“What kind of changes?”

“A change of regime.”

“So…you are plotting to overthrow the de la Courcel family then?”

Marius sat in silence for over a minute. He was debating in his own heart whether or not I was trustworthy. Did I deserve to hear the truth? His silence alone spoke volumes, and answered my question, but I still wanted to hear him say it.

“Yes,” he responded, his voice dropping to a whisper, “my Brothers and I have been making plans, lying the groundwork, as it were, for a revolution. By this time next year, Terre D’Ange will be run by her people; people who revere the teachings of Blessed Elua, and want all its denizens to have an equal say.”

“You believe this example of democracy laid out by Giovannia is one that could work here as well?”

“I do.”

“And you are willing to fight and die if need be for this cause?”

“I am. We are.”

It was now my turn to sit quietly for a time.

“Then, Marius, will you consider my request? Will you teach my fellow adepts and I to protect ourselves, and others, when this mêlée comes? For surely The Night Court is no safe haven against the battle of which you speak.”

He looked down at my hand, which had crept its way up to his forearm, which I squeezed in a gentle but urgent manner. He then looked back up to my eyes, which were pleading silently to him for aide. 

“It is against my better judgement, I cannot lie, but yes, Isabel nó Gentian, I will teach you how to fight.”


	6. A Reunion Followed by a Confession

“You are sure that we can trust him?” Gavin asked me for about the fifteenth time since the date of our first training session was set.

“Yes, Gavin. And honestly, I believe he has more to fear from us than the reverse. Were we caught with daggers in hand, at most we would be flogged, but the penalties for him training us are far worse. Being expelled from his order at the least, and death as a traitor at the worst.”

“You’re right.”

It didn’t matter that we had had this exact conversation every day since I last met with Marius, Gavin was still apprehensive. 

“And what time did he say he would arrive?”

“One hour past sunset, once the gates of The Night Court are securely locked, and the Dowaynes have taken to their beds for the night. Marius said that was when he would arrive.”

Gavin snapped his head up from the book he had been scanning through, “Who?”

“Marius, the Cassiline Brother who is coming to train us. Is there something wrong?”

“No…no. Nothing at all. I’m’ sure it’s nothing to be concerned about. Only, I knew a Marius once. Still, it couldn’t be him, never you mind Isabel.”

I shrugged, trying to let go of Gavin’s unease, but finding it difficult to do so. It was true that they both hailed from Siovale, and Marius’s mother had once been a Gentian, mayhap there was some connection between them after all. I merely hoped it would not be an obstacle to our training. Well and so, the sun was setting and I would find out soon enough. 

It seemed an eternity passed while Gavin and I waited for Marius to arrive. Even so, in true Cassiline form, I saw a lithe form scaling the walls of The Night Court exactly one hour after the sun had sank from view. He landed on our side of the wall with a feline grace, sinking to his knees to absorb the shock of the fall. He rose back to his feet slowly, then approached his waiting pupils. 

As we came closer, I saw the unmistakable shock on his face upon seeing Gavin by my side. In the same moment, I heard Gavin’s sharp intake of breath.

“Brother?” The word came out in a hoarse whisper beside me. 

“It can’t be…” Marius replied trepidatiously. 

“It’s been so many years…”

“You were so young when I went away…”

“You’ve gotten so tall…”

It took me only a moment to understand what was happening around me. I had already known that Gavin’s older brother had been sent away to join the Cassiline Brotherhood, as was the tradition amongst the noble houses of Siovale. The first son is the heir, while the second joins the warrior priest of our country, that they may protect and serve. It was less decided what would happen were a third male issue to come forth, and as had happened to Gavin, some chose to become Servants of Naamah. 

Marius would have left to begin his training when he was 10 years old, some 5 years before Gavin had come to the City of Elua himself, all meaning that this reunion was a long time coming. Brothers who had not seen one another in at least 12 years stood staring at each other, unsure of how to proceed. 

Finally, the third son of the de Toluard family stepped forward, and threw his arms around his older brother’s neck. 

At first, Marius stood still as a statue, unaccustomed to such familiarity, but after only a moment’s hesitation, I saw him relax into the embrace, and return his brother’s affection.   
I stood in silence, not wanting to interrupt the magic of their fraternal bond, severed so many years earlier. After a good amount of time had passed, and the brothers had become reacquainted with one another, Marius receiving news of his family, whom he had not seen in over a decade, it was decided that we commence with our training.   
Marius was incredibly patient with us, considering that he had never had pupils such as we before. True, he had trained initiates of the Brotherhood, but even they had more experience holding a blade. 

Cassilines make their way through positions, creating the illusion of a dance when they fight. I was in awe as I watched Marius spin and twirl and duck and dip, waving his daggers and vambrances so that the moonlight reflected off of them.

Neither Gavin nor I had any chance at coming close to Marius’s physical acumen, seers and courtesans as we were. But he did teach us how to hold a knife, how to stab, and how to dodge an oncoming blow. We practiced well into the night. 

All thoughts of trying to seduce Marius for my own purposes fell away from me, as I saw tendrils of blonde hair coming loose from his severe club knot. I saw too the clever smile that played across his mouth, and heard the jests he shared with Gavin and I. Marius was no ordinary Brother, and I found myself yearning for his touch. 

I did not have to wait long, blissfully. He positioned himself behind me, circling my arms with his own, and showed me how to grip the dagger properly, gently guiding my arm in forward motions, up and down, left to right. I leaned back ever so slightly, that I might feel his chest against my back. To my surprise and delight, I felt him press against me, his chest warm and firm despite the night chill. 

Even more astounding was his heartbeat. I could feel it racing, not from the physical activities in which we were engaged, but from desire. Or so I told myself anyway. His breath was warm in my ear as he whispered instructions, the places a man was most susceptible to the blade in my hand. 

I began to feel myself tremble. Ah, Elua, would that his hand be in my own, with no dagger to come between us. Would that we were in a bed, I some private chambers, and not fettered by so many damnable garments. Would that I could feel the flesh of his chest against my own, and that our hearts would race in time together. 

He felt it too, of that I was certain. His voice had lowered, become thick in the unmistakable way it does when a man wants you. I turned to look up at him, and he stared deeply into my eyes. The color of the sky in the summertime, I couldn’t help but think. He tucked an errant strand of hair behind my ear, like he had the night we met. 

“I can’t,” was all he said.

In truth, nothing more was needed. He had his vows, and I had mine. We were not the anguissette and Cassiline of old, we were a seer and a rebel, in tumultuous times. No stories would be told about us. We would likely die if the fray Marius spoke of came to pass, and there was no guarantee we would be successful in our campaign. All of this could be in vain. I wanted him, gods knew I did, but I understood. 

Taking a step back, I nodded. 

“Of course.”

His eyes never left mine, and an entire song passed between us, despite the small amount of words we spoke aloud. 

The sun began to rise, and the spell was broken as Marius turned to look at the dawn. 

“I must return to my order, but I shall return one week hence. You both did well tonight, I think the rebellion may find use for you yet.”

He flashed us a quick smile, then was back over the wall before I could blink. 

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes as I turned to look at Gavin. His forehead was covered with a fine sheen of sweat from the exertion we had put forth. 

“We had better get inside,” he said to me as he took me by the hand and led me back into the Gentian House. 

To my surprise, Gavin led me past the adept’s chambers, and instead into an assignation room. It was far more sumptuous to be sure, with the new sun barely illuminating the interior through the windows. The walls were painted a buttery yellow, and dark blue linens adorned the large wooden bed. I sat myself on the foot of the bed, and the mattress sink slightly beneath me weight. 

“Why did you bring me to this room?” I asked him.

Gavin looked at me silently for a time, measuring his words. 

“I fear that this endeavor shall kill us,” he said simply, “and if not us as individuals, then certainly our way of life. I have eyes that see, and ears that hear, just as you do Isabel. I know what the Cassilines are about, and we as well, now that we seem to be joining them. I have known my share of women in my 17 years upon this earth Isabel, and men as well all told. But I have yet to feel the embrace of a woman I love, to feel the caress of fingers I truly care about. To burn with desire for another person. 

I love you Isabel no Gentian. I've loved you since we first began our fosterage within these very walls. I've loved you from both close and afar. I had thought to wait to share my feelings with you until both our marques had been made, that we might not bring scandal and shame upon us, but now I fear for my very mortality, and I cannot maintain my silence any longer."

I stared at Gavin, utterly taken aback by his words. Never, in all our years together, had I suspected that he harbored any feelings beyond that of an affectionate brother towards me. 

I rewound my mind, scanning through our history for any instances when he might have shown more...and in a flash I saw. 

I saw us as young children, playing in the snow. Faragon throwing snowballs at me, and Gavin shielding me from the icy blows with his own body, taking me by the hand and dragging me to safety. 

I saw him at age 14 saving his chocolate and raspberry tart to share with me, knowing of my affinity for both. 

I saw him, just this past Longest Night, forgoing all others just to stand with me and talk through the night, sipping on joie and making me laugh. 

I saw him holding me as I cried, having removed the nightmares of my patron, only to be plagued with them myself. 

Gavin had always been by my side, as my brother, my confident, my friend. We had shared to same horrific vision for the future of Terre D'Ange, and we had begun to train for the impending battle. 

How had I never seen this before? Gavin, it was always Gavin. 

And yet. 

Marius. He was so new to me and my life, and yet I felt such a heat between us. I knew in my heart it was for naught, as our individual vows kept us from ever acting upon our desires. He had invaded my head like a plague, spreading from my head to my heart, and lower down to Naamah's Pearl. 

I shook the thought of Marius from my head. He was but a fantasy, while Gavin was here in flesh and blood, proclaiming his love for me, after 7 years or pining. 

I rose from my place on the bed, and lifted my sky blue tunic up over my head, letting in drop to the floor. I stripped off the leggings I had on for practice and kicked the small pile that my clothing had become into the corner. I stood before Gavin, completely bare. 

His eyes took in my form reverently. 

"Ah, Elua..." He murmured, "I had hoped, of course, but never dreamed it could be possible. Dear gods Isabel, but you look like something from out of a dream."

He walked towards me slowly, removing his own tunic and breeches in the process. His clothing was looser, and thusly easier to remove. He was as naked as I in a thrice. I, who have seen many a man, could not help but smile as I betook Gavin in all his beauty. 

His blonde hair hung in loose waves to his shoulders, and his eyes, normally such a fair pale blue were darkened with lust. Gavin was of the same height as I, with a lean build. Like most D'Angeline men, he had very little body hair, save for a few blonde tendrils on his chest, and a darker thicket of curls where his hips met his thighs, his already hard cock jutting out enticingly.

I took a step towards him tentatively. Never before had I been with a man, or a woman, if it wasn’t for an assignation. Of course I found divine pleasure in my service to Naamah, but in just the same way as Gavin, I had never been with another person for the mere sake of pleasure. 

He rested his hand on the back of my head and drew me closer, closing the small gap that existed between us. In an instant our lips were pressing together, and my arms were twined around his neck. His lips were firm and insistent upon my own, his hand gripping my head tighter, winding my wild hair between his fingers. I sucked on his bottom lip, and heard him moan out loud. 

Using his free hand, Gavin reached down and took hold of my thigh is hiked it up, so it was resting on his hip. I pressed my body against his, my nipples already hardening at the mere sensation of his chest upon mine. He slid his tongue between my lips, probing me as though asking a question. 

Yes, I answered him back silently, joining my tongue with his, and relishing in the sensation as they danced together in the limbo between our mouths. He gripped at my hair a little more tightly, but not in an unpleasant way, and pulled slightly, causing my head to bend backwards and reveal my neck. Gavin drew back slightly, and then dipped his head down to kiss at the bare flesh now so tantalizing to him. 

He flicked his tongue over my skin, drawing little circles and patterns there. At first I began to giggle with the sensation, but he held tightly to my hair and would not let me squirm away. 

What is this? I asked myself, I am no adept of Valerian, to find such pleasure in being roughly handled, and yet I felt that this was no play acting, and that Gavin Toluard nó Gentian was every bit as ardent as he appeared to be. He had loosened his grip on my thigh, and my legs were beginning to tremble. Sensing this, Gavin guided me softly backwards, until I felt the edge of the bed pressing against the back of my knees, and I allowed myself to tumble back upon it. 

I had not let go of my hold around his neck though, and Gavin fell down atop me, bracing himself with his elbows as he landed, so as not to crush me beneath him. His wheat blond hair fell around his face like a halo, and for the briefest moment I wished that it was longer, and tied back in a club knot, but no…not now…I mustn’t think of such things.   
He continued kissing on my neck, then made his way down to my collarbone. His right hand was now cupping my breast, massaging it, rolling my taunt nipple between his thumb and forefinger all the while. His mouth found my other breast, and he alternated between flicking the tip of his tongue over it quickly, like a hummingbird, and taking long, slow strokes with his tongue’s fat center. The constant change in sensations made me squirm impatiently beneath him. 

Eventually his had left me breast, and he switched to kissing the other, just as amorously at the first. His hand crept lower, fingers trailing over my belly, so unmercifully slow. I sobbed quietly, hungering for him to touch where I desired it the most. 

“Patience, Isabel,” he whispered, glancing up from his perch upon my breast, swollen with pleasure, “I have waited for this moment for 6 years, and I intend to savor every bit of it.”

I moaned out him name entreatingly, and thank the gods but he listened. His fingers began to stroke my inner thighs, so sensitive and suffused with heat, craving satisfaction with every ounce of my being. When he finally brought his fingertips to my lips, slick and ready, I shunted my hips forward, trying like a daemon to feel him enter me. 

Even so, Gavin would not bring me to my apex so quickly. He proceeded to insert only the very tip of his finger into my core, and ran it back and forth, between my hungry mouth and Naamah’s Pearl, swollen and distended even before he had ventured near it. He worked his finger roundly, as though he was dancing upon my flesh. It was only when I began to sob in earnest that his mouth released my breast, my nipple had been lodged between his teeth, and he finally began to kiss lower. 

His tongue swirled down my body, just as his fingers had done an eternity ago. He never stopped working between my legs for even an instant; had I been more aware, I would have been impressed with his ability to focus on so many parts of my anatomy at once. 

When he finally touched his mouth to my vagina, I could have wept with relief. But that feeling was nothing next to moments later when his tongue parted my lips and dipped inside of me. 

“Ah, Elua, you taste like honey and sunshine Isabel. Just as I always dreamed you would.”

“We are Gentian after all Gavin, mayhap you dreamed true,” I replied with a chuckle.

He growled lightly under his breath, and buried his face between my thighs then, licking every inch of my lower flesh, he pressed his entire mouth against me, as though he was determined to devour me whole. He took Naamah’s Pearl between his lips and sucked gently upon it, causing my body to shake. I could feel my pulse racing, and it seemed my whole body was on fire. 

Gavin slowly inserted his entire finger up inside of me, and curled up just slightly, so that it pressed directly into my core. I felt myself writhing like a cat in heat, but he used his free hand to pin me to the bed, holding my bucking hips still. The idea of being bound held no appeal to me, of at least the thought of it had never occurred to me before. I was stunned that Gavin, my sweet childhood playmate, had such strength, as he was slight of build like most D’Angeline men. 

Behind that gentle exterior I was learning but quick what kind of passionate animal lie in wait. He continued to slide his finger in and out of me rhythmically, each time pressing into my core with just a little more pressure. Just as he had with my breasts earlier, Gavin alternated techniques with his tongue, sometimes light and quick, while at other moments I felt the soft press of his entire tongue, rubbing against my nub in long luxuriating strokes. I felt I would come apart at the seams, it was all too much.

Finally, just when it seemed I could take no more, I opened my eyes for the briefest moment and looked down. I saw Gavin’s deep blue eyes staring intently back up at me and I could not look away. The knowledge that he was watching me, and garnering pleasure from it, sent me right over the edge. I could feel the tingling running through my hands and feet, as though I was touching the very heavens themselves. I could feel the tension building up in my stomach, and then it released all at once, sending me off in a million pieces, a million directions. 

Like a child throwing a thousand daisies into the air, I could feel myself coming apart at the seams. I bit down upon my tongue then, to keep from screaming aloud. What we did now was still forbidden, and we could face expulsion from the Night Court were we discovered.

To his great credit, Gavin did not cease working upon me until the orgasm had passed in its entirety, my body falling slack upon the bed. But even then he did not stop kissing me. Instead now, he was kissing along my thighs, still working me with his finger, albeit in a much more gentle fashion then before. I continued to shake and quiver, impaled upon his finger and wishing for no other sensation in the world. 

Eventually he stopped, and slid his digit from me, causing me to whimper softly. He chuckled lightly at the sound and crawled up my body. 

I could feel his need pressing against my thigh, though for only an instant. In the span of only a few heartbeats, Gavin had entered me again, though this time it was with his full member. 

“Oooooh, yes…” I sighed, feeling a kind of satisfaction that external stimulation alone could not provide. He leaned back, sitting up on his knees, and drew my legs up over his shoulders. Holding my hips in his hands, he rocked me up and down on his hard cock. If I had thought myself impaled earlier upon his finger, that was nothing compared to what I was experiencing now. Now I felt myself filled, completely and utterly, not a millimeter of my flesh was wasted. I had never felt such perfection before, and I offered a silent prayer to Naamah that it would never stop. 

And thank Elua, it did not, not for a good long time. Gavin was Night Court trained just as I was, and we are not taught to spend ourselves so quickly. No, he had endurance, and he continued to ride me for a long while, longer than any patron had ever lasted with me before. But again, Gavin was no patron. My felt my brows knit together as I focused on the pleasure mounting throughout my body. My eyes, so often closed during the act of lovemaking, were wide open and searching his. Neither of us looked away, and when he finished inside of me, holding his breath to muffle the guttural moans forming in the back of his throat. He drove into me, and his orgasm seemed to last nearly as long as the entirety of our entire encounter had. 

He collapsed on top of me, and I pulled him close, running my fingers through his blonde curling locks, damp with sweat. His face was pressed against my neck, and he deposited several small kisses there, comfortable delicate kisses unlike the desperate, starved ones for only minutes earlier. 

“That…was more than I had ever hoped for Isabel,” he whispered, his voice muffled by the flesh of my neck.

“I’ve hoped for you, even played that some of my patrons were you…but the reality of you in my arms is far sweeter than any fantasy could ever be. I love you so much.”  
I was deeply moved by Gavin’s words, and yet I felt a small pit building in my stomach. I loved him, yes, I was certain now that I always had. But something stopped me from saying the words aloud. And that something was more of a someone, and that someone was Gavin’s brother by blood, if not by vows. 

There is little that is taboo in Terre D’Ange; we follow Blessed Elua’s precept, “Love as thou wilt” to the letter, and almost nothing is considered to be distasteful. Very few citizens remain faithful to a singular partner; but brothers, families, there were those who would find that profoundly offensive.

Nothing had changed between Marius and I though, neither of us were free to be with one another, even if we wished it. And Gavin was so dear to me; I did love him, if not in the way he wished, still in my own way. I swallowed my feelings, and replied, “I love you too Gavin.”


	7. Training

Summer gave way to Fall, and eventually the snow began to fall, signaling the approaching Winter. Gavin and I slowly recruited adepts from the dwindling Houses to join us in our training, just as Marius conscripted several of his brothers to assist him. 

One by one, the great Houses of the Night Court began to close, and consolidate. Mandrake and Valerian now dwelled together, and we of Gentian became accustomed to having the adepts of the now shut Balm House as our cotenants. Similarly joined were Camellia, Jasmine and Dahlia in the Jasmine House, Ceres and Heliotrope in Ceres. Only Alyssum, Bryony and Eglantine maintain their separate Houses, as their canons were so distinct as to be unmergable. 

There were some threescore of us who trained in defense and attack now, spread throughout different nights, so as to not overwhelm our teachers. In my group, still taught by Marius, as well as one other Brother of his, Henri Trent, there were 10 of us; Gavin and myself of course, but also Rebekah, and the twins Benoit and Faragon. We were joined by Lelahiah nó Mandrake, and her brother Julien nó Mandrake; I never found if they were blood relations or merely House Siblings. From Alyssum House there was Mignon Rame nó Alyssum, who despite her pretty blushes in the bedroom, was one of the fiercest fighters I have ever seen. Roshana nó Eglantine, who had been trained as a tumbler, could wield a dagger and spin through the air as gracefully as a bird, and finally there was Ghislain Lafons nó Camellia, who practiced and studied in his spare time, that he might uphold his House’s motto Without fault of flaw. 

We were a small band of recruits, but we trained hard, should we ever be required to take up our arms in earnest. 

Henri and Marius taught us as best they could, but they had been training since their youth, and betimes they brought Tsagini lads with them, to teach us a rougher sort of melee, lest we be disarmed with only our fists to protect us. Cassilines are never without their vambrances, and so are always protected in some small measure. We had no such defense.   
In the span of 7 months, we became proficient, if not masters, at several different types of combat. The Brothers smuggled weapons in to us, that we might have as much of a chance as possible. Handheld crossbows, daggers, and even a bayonette or two. They refused to teach us to fight with swords, as Cassilines only draw steel to kill. Such training would have been blasphemy. We took turns training with each, though we eventually all found our favorites. I learned that I excelled with a dagger, while Gavin preferred the bayonette. 

Every training session, and we upgraded from one to two a week once the weather began to cool, was a test of restraint for me. Twice weekly I kept my mind on the task at hand, and tried not to notice Marius more than was necessary. Twice weekly I tried to ignore the feeling of his eyes on me, piercing my skin. Twice weekly I tried to pretend that I only felt the air as it cooled around me, rather than the way my flesh burned whenever he touched mine. Twice weekly I tried to pretend that our conversations were all about The Cause, and not some veiled metaphor for the lust we both felt for each other. 

And yet every day I found that I didn’t have to pretend with Gavin. Every day I found him by my side, keeping me company, and enquiring about how my assignations had gone. Every morning now we met by the ancient yew tree and prayed for guidance. Sometimes we were alone, while others we were joined by our compatriots. We prayed to Shahrizai for wisdom, and Kushiel for mercy. We prayed to Camael for strength should we be forced to join the fray. We prayed to Elua that we would not need to. And every night I found myself in Gavin’s arms. 

There were few assignations made in these days. Coin was becoming a scarce commodity, and those that possessed it were not likely to spend it on Servants of Naamah. Food, wine, and fire for the hearth that is where their money went now. 

As the air grew cooler I celebrated my 18th natality, and reached the age of majority. I was now considered an adult in the eyes of the realm, and had I made my marque already I would have been free to do as I chose. In years past it was rare, but not unheard of to achieve this feat. Now though, my marque crept pitiably up my spine, less than a third of the way complete. I tried to push aside the notion that if war came to Terre D’Ange there was a good chance my marque would never be made to completion, and even worse was the thought that it wouldn’t matter should it came to pass. Gone were the days of decadence in our once thriving nation. Gone were any delicacies at all really. 

As a gift for my natality, Gavin procured a fresh pear for me, as well as a small bottle of perry brandy. Gods knew what it must have cost him, but it just made me love him all the more. 

As the state of our country continued to fray and grow threadbare, so too did our traditions. This gave Gavin and I leave to grow bolder with our relationship, holding hands as we walked the halls, and betimes even sharing a bed as we slept. We were not bothered by our Dowayne, nor by his second. We had no patrons vying for our affection, no bruised hearts to protect, save our own. 

Every night as we hoarded wood for kindling, we saw the lights for the palace aglow, we heard the revelry that went on in the very heart of The City, so far from Mont Nuit. Our worlds had never before felt so far apart, but now the gulf was immense. 

It was increasingly rare that we were permitted to leave the walls of The Night Court, gates that were being locked earlier by the night. When we did venture forth though, the unrest in the streets was palpable. There were common folk coming in from the country, wishing to plead with their sovereigns to send them home with provisions, but were rudely rebuffed and not even granted audience. Such treatment would have been unheard of in past generations, but it was sadly commonplace now. Stock holds of gunpowder were being made in Night’s Doorstep, or so Marius told us. They had even obtained a cannon, though I knew not by what means. 

Fear plagued every quarter of The City of Elua. What was once a shining example of peace, prosperity, and progress to the rest of the world was now desolate and filled with righteous fury. 

The City was a powder keg, and all we needed to do now was wait for someone to light a match.


	8. A Masque and a Hasty Farewell

We did not, as it turns out, need to wait for long. It was The Longest Night, the night when we celebrated the passing of Winter and the oncoming Spring. It is a holiday of hope, and renewal, of love and light. In days past, the joie flowed like the River Naamah, and I’ve heard tell that the banquets were a sumptuous affair. Things were different now.

Do not mistake the meaning of my words, for we were not like to stint when it came to the social event, not only of the season, but of the entire year. It was the one night that not even the King and Queen of Terre D’Ange could not ignore, it was the holiest of rituals. Marius and his Brothers would be in Cassiel’s Temple, holding their vigil, as they were wont to do. But those of us in the Night Court, however had a myriad of preparations to make. 

There was a time when Cereus House alone took responsibility for hosting the Midwinter Masque, while all others were merely pleased to be in attendance, but now it was a task in which we all played a part. The fête was still held in Ceres, to be sure, but now Dahlia and Camellia took upon themselves the task of decorations, while Eglantine adepts stitched costumes for us all. Threadbare though they were, we felt vibrant and beautiful in our frippery. Mandrake and Valerian promised a meal that we would dream of the rest of the year, and to be sure they did not disappoint. Each House pinched and saved every spare cent to make this a spectacular affair. 

An adept for Heliotrope would play The Sun Princess, and one from Cereus took the part of The Winter King. Traditionally, it was The Winter Queen and The Sun Prince, but in reverence to King Imriel and Queen Sidone de la Courcel, who ruled over our country some 300 years earlier, the parts were reversed once a decade. 

As the fête grew closer, several of us were near quivering with anticipation. The peers of the realm had remained at court, hidden in their parapets and behind gleaming white walls, for too long. We were anxious to see what fashions were now en vogue, the gowns and the hairstyles. But even more than that, we wanted the peerage and our King and Queen to see how we lived. 

The fête we were hosting, while not without it’s glitter, was surely nothing compared to any singular evening one might experience at court. Where we had roasted chickens, they had stewed geese. Where we had watered wine, they had perry brandy and joie. Eglantine still produced the finest musicians in the realm, but those who had made their marque were far too expensive for us to contract with, and so we were left with green apprentices. 

Finally, the eve had arrived. I was wearing a strapless dress of midnight blue canvas, the corset cinched tightly about my waist with yellow cord. Floss of gold was used to stitch a design of gentian flowers, as though they were growing up my torso. The skirt was made of flowing taffeta. While my heart longed for the finer touch of satin, I knew too well how unrealistic such a fantasy was. My hair was twisted in a lover’s haste knot, and I wore the slippers I usually kept reserved for assignations. They were yellow, and had blue glass beads worked into them.   
Gavin was, of course, to be my escort. As I said, we were no longer hiding our affair, and even if we were, the Midwinter Masque is a night when no contracts can be made, and all couplings are encouraged as a matter of choice. Well and good, for I had chosen Gavin that fateful night, so many months earlier. He was dressed quite handsomely, wearing a long coat with tails made of dark blue velvet, and a shirt of yellow linen. The coat was held together with fraying gold thread, and had one missing gold button. Our Dowayne himself, Felix Hermodorus, had lent the coat to Gavin, as he was now the premier remaining Gentian adept. None of the Dowaynes were in attendance this evening, or else such a loan would have been unthinkable. As it was, the absence of all 13 Dowaynes was unprecedented, and highly noticeable. Still, we who were able to make nit were determined to enjoy the revelry as best as we were able. 

The sun sank behind the distant mountains, and for the first time in months the gates to The Night Court remained open. Adepts began to eat, and dance as the musicians played their instruments. Gavin took me by the hand out onto the dance floor, and we bowed to one another, then joined in with the others in dancing the Folies d’Espagne. It was a quick dance, of the Baroque style, and it was my favorite, as it was a dance that lent itself to may improvisational flourishes. I threw my hands up over my head in pleasure as I spun in a circle. 

I fair stuffed myself, on roasted chicken, spiced ham, and figs that had been soaked in sweet port wine. There was a stew of wild mushrooms, rich and earthy, and a mousse made with chocolate from Aragonia. It was my first time tasting chocolate, and it was, without question, the most delectable thing to ever grace my mouth. 

The night grew darker, and it was more than passing strange that the only attendees were courtesans of The Night Court, as well as a handful of favored patrons. It used to be that a token admitting one entrance into The Midwinter Masque was one of the most highly prized items to be found come snowfall in Terre D’Ange, but in recent years the strict admittance rules had slackened considerably. And yet, still none from court had come. I saw Rebekah casting urgent glances at me from across the room, and I caught Gavin’s hand and brought him with me to her side. 

“Have you heard?” she asked us in a hushed, worried tone.

“Heard what?” Gavin responded.

“It’s why none of the Dowayne’s are present tonight, and some of their seconds as well. It has to do with the Kind and Queen.”

Gavin and I shared a furtive glance, while Rebekah continued on.

“They are cloistered away, and having a Summitus.”

I drew in my breath quickly through my teeth, as my hand flew to my mouth. Never, in living memory, had there been a Summitus. Elua’s Balls, it had only happened twice before in all of recorded history. 

A Summitus, for those not reared in The Night Court, is a meeting of the heads of all 13 Houses. It only occurs under the gravest of circumstances. Here, they discuss important matters of state, as they relate to their charges. Few details are known about what occurs, within a Summitus, just as we do not know where they are held. How Rebekah even knew that one was occurring, I had no idea. When I asked her this question, her response was to blush a deep crimson, as she confessed a dalliance with the second of the Byrony House. I managed to shake my shock from my head, and listened as she continued to unspool her story. 

“They had a notion that the peerage would not show face tonight. That alone would have incited outrage, but the fact that King Philippe and Queen Maria-Antonia do not appear is blasphemous. They are meeting tonight to discuss what measures shall be taken should no one make an entrance.”

“What types of actions are they considering?”

“I do not know. They have already restricted the movements of us adepts, how much moreso could they?”

The Sun Princess was present now, out on the dancefloor, and she was resurrecting the shabbily dressed Winter Prince, as was customary. Most others were watching with rapt attention, though there were those who spoke in hushed tones, in various groupings about the ballroom, as we three did now. 

Feeling my nerves coil in my stomach like a snake squeezing a baby piglet, I went to one of the young lads, who was carrying around a tray with watered wine. I snatched a glass from his tray and downed in in a single draught. And then another. And then another. Having never developed a taste for spirits, I felt my head swimming instantly, but at least the tension in my stomach has eased considerably. I took Gavin lapel of his coat and dragged him to a hidden corner. 

As the ritual of the Sun Princess was now complete, many were coupling off, it was now time for merriment to commence, in the best way that a courtesan of Terre D’Ange can manage. Some had also found hidden places, while others found it unnecessary to do so, and were in various stages of undress and lovemaking throughout the fête.

I hastily undid his britches and pulled them down around his knees. His member was far from stiff, and after the news we had just received I could hardly blame him. But I also knew that the absence of all the noblemen and women of our nation on such an important holiday could only portend doom, and I was struck with terror at the thought that our time to take up arms had indeed come. I wished for oblivion, which is not a grace often granted to one of Gentian. 

I wrapped my hand about his soft cock, and begin kissing at the flesh that surrounded it. I squeezed gently with my hand, starting with my palm and working the pressure up to my fingertips. Slowly, I began to pull up and down on his shaft, feeling the blood rush into it, causing it to thicken and harden in my fist. I leaned forward and licked the tip of his cock with my tongue, keeping it soft while I did so. 

When I slipped it between my lips I heard Gavin groan. 

“Ah…Isabel, you will be the death of me yet…”

I worked my tongue clockwise around his shaft, sucking just slightly all the while. Alternating between taking all of him into my mouth at once and focusing only on the head until I felt his knees tremble. I knew he could not remain standing for long, and would need to lie down soon. 

I looked up at him through my thick lashes, my emerald eyes meeting his. We stared at each other as I moved my head back and forth, feeling his cock nudge against the back of my throat. He was fully erect now, and as hard as I had ever known him to be. Gently, he eased himself back into a chair, which was mercifully nearby. 

I crawled after him eagerly, and then resumed my task. I felt Gavin’s fingers in my hair, tamed for once with a combination of pins and pomade. One by one, the pins fell to the floor, unleashing it into the wild mane that was so natural to me. 

He could feel his cock, tensing and releasing as I swirled my tongue around and around it, manipulating my cheeks so that they felt like a cunt mid-climax. 

“What…what are you doing?” He gasped.

I swallowed back a smile, as I knew he wanted no response, save for my continued ministrations. 

I continued pumping my hand up and down on his shaft, each time pressing harder against his pelvis. His hips were bucking beneath me, and yet I did not stop. Even when he pulled back from me, I knew that this was merely a sign that he was bordering on ecstasy. 

No longer was I switching my techniques, for I knew his completion was nigh. Now I worked my mouth and fist in tandem consistently. I suckled upon him earnestly, listening to his moans meld with the sounds of the music, still being played by Eglantine adepts on the other side of the hall. 

When he entered his final throws of passion, I knew it. We had been together for months, and I knew the rhythm of his body the way the moon knows the tide. I closed my eyes and moaned, encouraging him on. 

His entire body went rigid, and I felt as his juices exploded into my mouth. I swallowed him down, refusing to release him until he finished fully, relishing in the taste of his musky, salty seed as it slid down my throat. 

His body finally went slack, and yet still I continued, though at a gentler pace now. I continued to suck gently, pulling every last drop from his softening cock. 

“Ah, Elua…” he murmured once I finally released him from my mouth, “Naamah herself could not have done a better job at taking my mind away from all of this,” he waved his head towards the crowd with a flourish, “you truly are some kind of a goddess yourself.”

I blushed, and giggled dismissively, “Gavin, you are such a charmer, is does surprise me betimes that you wound up in Gentian rather than Orchis.”

He smirked at me, and his smile was like a punch in my gut, for in an instant it was as though I was looking at Marius; they both smiled so. 

The dawn was now breaking, and The Longest Night was coming to its end. All of the adepts collected their discarded clothing and began making our way back to our own Houses. Upon arrival at our home, we found Dowayne Hermodorus, and Dowayne Jezebel nó Balm waiting for us outside. My attention however, was squarely on the leader of my own House. 

His face was wan, and his frame thin. I knew he took less sustenance, that those of us who were younger might have more to eat, but it had been far too long since I had seen him in the flesh, and was dismayed by his appearance. Even worse tough, was when he opened his mouth to speak. 

“Children,” he began, his voice grave and cracking, “as you know, I was not at the Midwinter Masque last night, nor were any other Dowaynes. Nor were our King and Queen. Nor their vassals.”

We began exchanging glances, anxious for where this was going. 

“It has been decided via Summitus on the Longest Night, that the gates of The Night Court shall be closing indefinitely. This slight by the peerage has not gone unnoticed by the common folk, and by those looking to incite violence. We shall be closing the gates that we might protect ourselves from the oncoming bloodshed, and rebellion. Rest assured that we have plans in place should our walls be breached, and we will deal with any who dare to invade our sanctity with swift justice. The gates open until the noon hour, that we may collect the necessary provisions for a long stay within our seclusion. We Dowaynes urge you to remain inside for your own safety, though we understand if there are those of you who wish to send missives to your families or patrons and inform them of your wellbeing. I strongly urge you to remember the vows that you have taken, which bind you to your Service until such time as your marque is made. I caution you against Kushiel’s Justice should you be fallacious and seek to flee The City in this hour.”

After a moment of silence, Dowayne Jezebel inclined her head, “You are excused. Be within the walls by noon, or else consider yourself renounced.”

Whispers broke out amongst the adepts then, the gates of The Night court were being locked indefinitely? Even the curfew that had been enacted had come as a shock to all of us. Such things had never been done before, and to bar out the rest of the world…I shuddered at the thought of such isolation. Then something else occurred to me, Marius. If he were to try and scale the walls tonight, I had no idea what type of justice the Dowaynes had in mind, but I was certain that I did not want to find out. 

Few adepts chose to leave Mont Nuit that morn, most were content to find solace in one another’s arms. Gone was all propriety, all House Affiliations. These boundaries had been growing thinner by the day, as we began to merge Houses, following the joint effort of The Midwinter Masque. Now we found that we were one House, the House of the Lost Courtesans. 

It was easy enough to slip away unnoticed. I knew that I needed to go to the Cassiline Temple, and find Marius and his Brothers. I needed to discover what they were about, what plans they held, and what actions they planned to take. What would be our part in the fray? For what else had we been training? T’was not a lark for us, whose livelihoods had been stripped and whose pride had been tarnished irreparably in the last 24 hours. 

It took little effort to find them, Cassiline Knights have difficulty hiding in a crowd. Even should they go in disguise, their bearing, ingrained in them for as long as an adept’s is, shows through the ruse like a candle on a moonless night. I found them in The Cockerel, having first sought them in their Temple to no avail. Well and so, I could not feign shock that they chose to remain far from their house on this day, considering the widespread news of the previous night. 

I recognized his form the moment I walked through the door, despite the fact that his back was facing me. I would have known him anywhere. 

Under normal circumstances, I would have tried to find some way to approach his inconspicuously, but these were dangerous times, and subterfuge was no longer a necessity.   
“Marius, may I have a word?”

He turned around with a surprised expression. No doubt those who dwelled outside on Mont Nuit assumed we adepts would remain indoors today, licking our wounds against the offense given by the nobles. Word had not spread yet of our self-imposed isolation I could see. 

“Of course Isabel. Right this way.”

He led me to a corner, the same one in which he had bumped into me, or I into him, it all seemed so long ago now. We walked with an ease that belied our anxiety. When we were finally alone, or as alone as one could be in The Cockerel, he asked me why I had come. 

“You have heard the news?” I asked him in hushed tones.

“What news? Of the Royal Family’s insult to Elua? Of course I have. The entire City is abuzz. My Brothers and I are plotting our next move. We plan to take action soon.”

I swallowed hard, my belly coiling in knots. He didn’t know about The Night Court. 

“Your plans will need to take place sooner than you may have planned. They are closing the gates of The Night Court today at noon. They will not be reopened until this political storm has passed.”

The color drained from Marius’s face. I saw him straighten as his knees buckled. Commendably, he recovered quickly and steadied himself. 

“It has to be now then. The time for training has passed. Isabel, do you believe that you and your fellow adepts will be prepared to join the fray should we strike tonight?”

Now it was my turn to blanch. My vision blurred, and I sank down into a wooden chair, struggling to comprehend what Marius was suggesting. I thought we would have more time. I took a deep breath to compose myself, and I stood back up. I shook off my light headedness, and replied.

“Yes, we will be ready.”

He nodded at me, “Alright. We will come for you when the sun sets.”

“But…the gates will be guarded…”

“Against peasants and ruffians, of course. But Isabel, do you really think there is a carpenter who could build a gate with the capacity to keep out a squadron of determined Cassiline Brothers?”

He tucked my hair behind my ear as he spoke, and I could not help but smile at his words. His hand hovered at my ear, and I leaned into it, pressing my cheek into his palm. Were we to die this night, I wanted to leave nothing unsaid. 

“Marius…”

“Yes, Isabel. I know. Me too. But, we have spoken about this.”

“But…should we fail. Should we parish in the melee…I could not bear to leave things between us as they are.”

He looked deeply into my eyes. I felt pierced by his blue gaze as surely as if it were by his sword. Without warning, he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. 

Never before had I felt such passion. Never before had I wanted another so. In my 18 years upon this earth, had I so longed for another’s touch. I could feel the heat from his body against mine, warming me against the Winter’s chill. I wrapped my arms around his neck, Elua he was so much taller than I, and went up onto my toes to return his kiss with avidity. The world spun around us, and flames licked at my very soul. When I poked my tongue between his lips he started, and why shouldn’t he have? This was all new for him after all. But he quickly reciprocated, joining his tongue with mine. 

For less than 30 seconds we kissed, no longer. There were still others around us, and Marius was still beholden to Cassiel, who required celibacy in those who served him. 

I was the one who broke the embrace, damn myself for not holding to him longer. 

“We will come for you tonight. Be ready,” he whispered as he backed away. 

I held my breath as I watched him go, I could scarce believe what had just transpired. I began walking through the door and back out to the cool streets of Terre D’Ange, when I saw a face in the window.

Gavin. 

I watched as his expression faltered, and he backed away from the window. He had seen me. I knew it. My hand had already been reaching for the knob when I saw him, I turned it and pushed the door open as quickly as I was able and saw Gavin standing mere feet away. I stopped in my tracks. 

“Gavin…” I began, but words failed me. 

“What…what is going on here?” his voice was hoarse.

“Marius, he says that we will act upon our plans tonight,” I replied thickly. 

Instantly, Gavin’s face shifted, from confusion to anger, “I don’t care about our plans Isabel, and I don’t care about this godsbedamned rebellion! I care about you. I love you.”

A knot formed in my throat, and I realized that I could not say the same words back to him. I stared dumbly at him, groping for a response. Gavin’s face changed again, this time to realization. 

“So, that is it then.”

“No…Gavin…please…”

Tears were streaming down my cheeks now as I reached for him. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing Gavin, my best friend, in such a way. I knew that my heart’s betrayal was unforgivable, and yet I still wished for forgiveness. But Gavin shook my hand away, not allowing me the succor of an apology. 

“No Isabel. I see what it is you want. I have a Gentian’s gift to be able to see into your soul. You do not want me, would that I had seen it sooner and spared myself this grief. You long for my brother, a man who can never fulfill your desires, lest he be declared anathema. I will fight by your side tonight, but after that we are at quits. Gods grant me a swift death this evening, that I may never see your face again.”

His words hit me like a blow to the gut. As he turned on his heel and left me, I crumpled to the ground and sobbed. 

I sat there, on the street corner like an urchin, for several minutes before I regained my bearings. Finally I managed to compose myself and return to The Night Court. I had preparations to make with my Brothers and Sisters of Naamah. I made it shortly before the noon bell rang out through The City, and I watched as the gates closed and locked behind me.


	9. A Nightmare Come to Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning, this chapter got a LOT darker than I originally planned. So...yeah. Sorry.

Despite the trepidations of a handful of my brethren, the majority of my fellow conscripts were committed to joining the rebels in their fight that evening. I could not fault those who chose to abstain, for we were going into the very heart of The City, and taking the palace by storm. Our training had been in play for some, while others planned to use their newfound knowledge only in defense. A full blown assault on the castle was more than they had bargained for. I cannot pretend that I didn’t understand. 

For those of us who were to be going into battle this evening, we had our own preparations to make. I scraped my dagger across a whetstone, sharpening its blade to a fine point. I had no desire to inflict pain, only damage. And damage only when absolutely necessary. The Brothers who had trained us had made it clear that we adepts were to remain in supporting positions, we were not meant to join the actual fighting unless we were needed. Gods hope it didn’t come to that. 

Gavin never came near me that afternoon, nor did he once cast a glance in my direction. I spent my time keeping my wits about myself, answering the questions of those who came to me, and continuing to sharpen my blade.  
The sun set, and my heart with it. I knew that I needed to harden myself in order to survive the night, and so I did just that. We sat together, having met by the Yew tree, and waited. 

We waited for about two hours, whispering in hushed voices our plan, repeating it over and over again. There would be a group of us who would act as sentries, scouting and protecting whatever ground we gained. Others would seek out the courtesans who were Night Court Tributes to The City, it was important that they be released, should they abandon their captors. Some would patrol the many rooms of the palace, seeing out the peerage, and taking them as hostages, or dispatching them if necessary. A good amount of the Brothers were expected to deal with their brethren who were acting as castle guardsmen; it was unlikely that they would join our cause, and Marius had confided to me the dread they faced at having to kill members of their own order. A last group would go directly to the royal chambers of the King and Queen. There was no way that they could live, it was already understood. Their blasphemy had gone too far now. We had looked away when they began taking adepts to court to use as their own playthings, and we had begun to grumble when they neglected the common folk and catered only to their own whims. In truth, their absence was far from the gravest of their sins, it was merely the match that the people had been waiting for. They had hungered for a revolution after seeing how Giovannia had thrived, and now they were getting their wish. 

When finally we heard a small commotion outside our gates, none of us were surprised. We heard the unmistakable sound of steel being drawn and clashing, we heard the wet sound of blood spilled, and the heavy dull thud of a body dropping. The Cassilines had arrived, and they had offered no quarter. Within minutes, they had scaled the walls and joined us. There were 6 of them here to escort us to the castle, others waited there, along with common folk who would also be fighting. 

Marius walked over to me, passion and fire in his eyes. 

“It has finally come Isabel, the night we have been training and planning for.”

“Yes. Marius…I am frightened.”

He nodded to me, and pulled me close to him. I rested my cheek on his warm chest and squeezed my eyes shut tightly. Gods, what were get getting ourselves into?

“Isabel…I have something to tell you,” he began.

“Yes?”

“I do not know what the outcome of this night will be, but I do know that we can never go back to our old lives after tonight. I and all of my Brothers will be declared anathema by the Cassiline Order, still loyal to the damnable crown. ‘To damnation and beyond,’ indeed… Cassiel chose his motto well.”

Marius put his hands on my shoulders and pulled me back, then tilted my chin up with his finger so that I was looking right up at him. 

“Know this Isabel, no matter what transpires, I will be by your side. Either we shall prevail, and I will make Cassiel’s Choice, and leave the Knighthood forever, or we shall fail. Should we fail…I am prepared to perform the terminus, if you will consent.”

I gasped at the suggestion, the terminus is an act of despair, a choice which is not made lightly. No one has performed this act in hundreds of years. It only occurs when all hope is abandoned. When a Brother performs the terminus, he throws his dagger into the heart of his charge, while simultaneously dragging its twin across his own throat as penance for failing to protect she whose life is to be held above his own. It is the ultimate sacrifice, and the final protection a Perfect Companion can offer. 

I held my breath at the notion, and felt the floor swaying beneath me feet. I considered all outcomes, and felt the weight of my House upon me. As a Gentian, I had the gift of foresight yes, but that gift had been fostered and fortified with lessons in the ability to see a pattern as it was laid out before us, like a chess board, or a game of rhythymomachy. Should we succeed, Marius was prepared to leave his order to be with me. Any why not? Gods knew I would be leaving Naamah’s Service should such a thing come to pass. Indeed, Naamah’s Service might cease to exist, and The Night Court may never open its hallowed gates again. 

But, should we fail? What could I expect to happen to me then? I knew well enough, I would be imprisoned and tried as a traitor to the realm. The best I could hope for would be banishment, but even I knew that was unrealistic. Those who played at treason in this country did not survive. Terre D’Ange was once a nation of beauty and joy yes, but we had never been a people who took lightly the notion of mutiny. I was common, and so my death would be public, a spectacle intended to serve as a warning to any others who were dissatisfied with the King and Queen. It would hurt. And my mother was like to witness it.

I steadied myself, and I remembered to breathe again. I looked up into Marius’s eyes, and I nodded. 

“Yes. I consent. To both,” I responded, my voice little more than a whisper. 

Marius released my shoulders then, and keeping his finger under my chin, he leaned in and kissed me. The warm tenderness of his lips on mine made me want to weep. It was only our second kiss, true, but it felt so right, as though we had spent a million lifetimes in one another’s arms. And mayhap we had, who could know for sure? There are those in Chin who believe in reincarnation and perhaps they have the right of it. I only know that I trembled as I felt his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me close, and my arms went up around his neck. I stood on tiptoe and prayed for this moment to stand still for all eternity. Oh Elua, never let it end. 

Blessed Elua bade us to love as we wilt, surely he must have a plan for those of us who followed him in earnest? Ours was not a capricious god, unlike those worshipped in Illyria, or Kriti. Elua cared for us, and would hold us to his bosom once we passed into Terre D’Ange that lies beyond. I could only hope that he would have a care for us as we lived as well. 

The gates were still locked, but our escorts had brought ropes to aide us in scaling the walls which surrounded the Night Court, blessedly we would not have to recreate the harrowing experience I had had when first joining the revolution. They needed us hale and ready to fight, and could take no chances that one of us might fall and injure ourselves. It less than no time at all before we were on the other side, feet firmly planted on the streets and avenues of Mont Nuit.  
We followed closely behind the Brotherhood, for they were the ones who knew the most expedient path to the castle. We spent the better part of an hour journeying there, making our way carefully and stealthily, until at last we were standing before it.

The palace was more beautiful up close than I had ever dared to dream. I had spent most of my life cloistered behind walls, first in the Temple of Naamah, and then in the Gentian House, with only occasional visits to The City; and even those visits comprised mostly of short visits to the market. 

The castle was made of beautiful white stone, with towers and parapets. There were blue velvet flags and banners with the silver swan crest of the House de la Courcel emblazed upon them. Whatever recession the rest of us were facing, it had obviously not touched our monarchs, nor their home. 

The Brothers looked nervously at each other, and no one needed to guess why. It was forbidden for a Cassiline to carry a sword in the Palace, it had been for hundreds of year, since the most famous battle in our nation’s history, between Joscelin Verreuil and Brother Rocaille during the reign of Ysandre the Wise. The two men had fought one another when Brother Rocaille tried to assassinate Her Majesty, and no steel had been permitted within these walls since. We were about to destroy that covenant. And we too, were on a mission of assassination. 

Marius gave a curt nod, and we crossed the threshold into the palace walls. There was no turning back now. 

There were, of course, sentinels located near the entrance, but they were dispatched quickly enough. Arrows to the throat, shot by Brothers who had been trained in archery as well as swordplay, ended the lives of those who would protect the palace before they had a chance to utter a word of warning. I flinched as I saw the blood trickle down their vestments, obscuring the silver embroidery a deep red. I was seeing the reality of our plans unfolding before my eyes, and it made my stomach churn. And yet we had only begun. 

We crept through the palace, splintering into our different parties. As the founding member of the adept’s part in the rebellion, I was a part of the group that went to find the King and Queen, along with Marius and three of his Brothers. Rebekah and the twins, Benoit and Faragon were also with us. Gavin went with those who would be looking for the adepts who had been taken hostage long ago. How the others fared, I do not know, for I never saw any of them again.  
We were not expected, that much was clear by the ease with which we entered the palace, as well as the members of the peerage who were milling about, looking as though they were preparing for a fête. I choked down my sorrow as I watched them get cut down before they could scream. I watched as the Brothers around me threw daggers at them, as though they were performing the terminus. But still, the Cassilines lived. There was no salvation to be found here.  
Finally, when we had just reached the Royal Chamber, someone did have a chance to scream, a serving girl who could not have been older than 12. She had hair the color of the yew tree, and green eyes that shone with fear. I heard her shriek before I saw her, and I cannot say whether or not I thank or curse the gods for that. I could not have slit her throat myself, and I doubt that I could have abided it if Marius had cut her down, or if one of the others had sunk a minié ball into her heart. But if we had only had the means of stopping her, mayhap things could have been different. 

The girl’s voice rang out down the hallways, a wordless sound of terror, traveling through the passages and doorways, alerting anyone present to our presence. It is a noise I shall hear ringing in my ears for the rest of my days. In less time than it took a heart to beat, we were surrounded by guards, both Cassiline and King’s alike. There were 3 Cassiline Knights, and 5 King’s guards, all with their weapons at the ready. Only the King’s guards were allowed to carry swords within the palace walls, but I knew that the Brothers we were facing did not need them, the twin daggers they held would be more than sufficient. Their faces were resolute, they had obviously seen the dead bodies that had followed in our wake, and had no intention of interrogating us or taking us alive. 

Marius looked at each of his Brothers and nodded. In a fluid motion, they each drew their swords from the sheath that was slung across their backs. The Knights drew in their breath sharply at the sight.

“Apostate!” Hissed one.

“It is you who are the traitors,” replied one of the Brothers in an even, measured tone, “You are the ones who have lapsed in your duty to the people of this once great nation. It is you who have grown fat and complacent serving those who would shirk their obligations to their citizens, who would let the hills run barren of crops, and turn a blind eye to children dying in the streets.”

It took no more provocation than this for the men to begin their fight. For those who have never seen a Cassiline Brother wield his sword, I count you both fortunate and deprived. It is a truly dazzling sight, they are trained from boyhood, just as we of the Night Court, and their weapons become an extension of their very arms. 

The Cassiline fighting style is all about defending one’s charge, they are meant to be the defenders of the realm after all. To damnation and beyond, they are the perfect companion. I lost sight of what was happening around me, for all I saw were whirls of steel, flashes of light reflecting off their swords, and to my horror, sprays of red blood filling their air like a fine mist. 

The King’s guard did not stand a chance, but that was to be expected. They were the first to drop. All but one, who held out valiantly for a time, before turning and running down an empty corridor in fear and shame. The Knights, however, were another matter entirely. For they were trained in just as exacting a fashion as our Brethren. 

I watched as the twins joined in the fray, Benoit with his sword, his hands shaking and saw him get cut down almost as fast as he raised it. Faragon too fell, a quick dagger to the throat did him in, the blade moving too fast for him to dodge. 

Rebekah screamed, and her voice reminded me of the serving girl’s from only minutes earlier. 

I saw her fall to her knees and begin praying to Yeshua for forgiveness, a god whom she had abandoned long ago, and yet still held close to her heart in some childish way. I saw a minié pass through her skull, and I wondered what we had done. 

If I seem removed, know that it is only because I was numbed by the horrors I saw unfolding around me. This was worse that my darkest nightmares, and I could not bear the sight of it. 

I held my dagger in my hands, feeling my grip tighten and loosen reflexively, my palm sweating on the handle. I watched as Marius spun in circles around me, protecting me as though I was a sovereign. Mayhap in his heart I was. I could not help but reminisce on the tales I had read of Phèdre nó Delaunay, and her Cassiline lover Joscelin. He too held her safety above all others, including his King and Queen. I saw flashed of steel making patterns in the air too fast for the eye to follow, and I saw too as Knights and Brothers alike fell beneath blades, until only Marius and one opponent were left standing. 

I stood where I was, too frightened to move one way or another. I watched with confusion as Marius put down his sword and drew out his daggers, crossing them before his chest. Surely he was more proficient with his long blade. But when he looked over his shoulder at me and nodded, I understood, he was preparing me for the terminus, should the need arise. I blinked back tears, and nodded my assent. 

Immediately they engaged. Ducking and spinning to avoid one another’s blades, yet they continued slashing all the while. I stood breathless and unbelieving at how ruthless they were being. There would be no first blood between them, only last. They were both fighting to kill. I could hear the sound of steel clashing against steel, daggers against vambrances, and saw the sparks fly as the blades hit one another. 

And then, in what can only be called a lucky blow, gods damn him, the Knight that Marius was facing sunk his blade deep into Marius’ heart. I could feel the blade as though it were lodged in my own chest. Damn Elua for making me a Gentian, and able to absorb the pain of others. Damn my mother for not sending me to Balm instead, that I might have given my beloved aid. But in truth, even I know this to be a fruitless wish. Marius was dead before he hit the ground. Such was a Cassiline’s skill. 

He did have time to turn and look me in the eyes one last time. His beautiful sky blue eyes, already clouding over with his final slumber at hand, filled with regret and with longing. Gods do I wish that we had had more time. I wish that we had given into our desires long ago. I wish many things. 

I heard a horrible wail echoing the room, bouncing off the walls and refracting like light through a crystal. It took me a moment to realize that the sound was coming from myself. 

The living Knight turned to look at me then, with cold brown eyes, the polar opposite of Marius’, which were now staring blankly at the sky, and would never see anything ever again. He began walking towards me, and I knew that the best I could hope for was a good quick death. I dropped to my knees and I began to pray to Elua to deliver me from this moment, from this place and time. And then, like an answer, I saw a gleam of light reflecting off of Marius’ discarded sword. I held my place, and did not move, not even as the Knight came up behind me, daggers drawn, preparing to slit my throat. I sat perfectly still, still as my dear yew tree and held my breath. I heard him drawing his arm back, preparing his blade, but I was quicker. 

Camael must have guided my hands, he must have held me to his bosom in that moment, for I struck true. Now it was this Knight who had steel invading his heart. I spun and rose to my feet, drawing the sword from his chest in a quick jerking motion. He fell to his knees, and yet I did not stop. Again and again I plunged the sword into his body, his legs, his shoulders, his belly, and yes, his heart again and again. I could feel the blood upon my face, sticky and warm on my hands and arm, but I barely noticed it. I screamed, a scream that would have rivaled warrior’s in the heat of battle. I saw nothing but blackness. 

When finally I came back to my senses, I had already dropped the sword. I vaguely membered the sensation of it slipping from my fingers and clamoring to the ground. From outside the walls I could hear shouts, and gunfire. I heard canons going off, like explosions. Destroying the world. This was the end of the world. 

I wiped my face, doing the best I could to clean it of blood, but I know that all I truly did was further obscure my face by smearing it. I must have looked like one of the Picti warriors of old, with their blue whorls tattooed upon their faces. Now I understood why they had done this thing. 

I slowly but assuredly walked to the chamber door of the King and Queen of Terre D’Ange. Without stopping to consider, I entered their inner sanctum. What I saw inside did not surprise me in the slightest, the Royal Couple, huddled in a corner, obviously fearing for their lives. Queen Maria-Antonia had long steaks of kohl running down her face, running black tracks down her rouged cheeks. King Philippe was wan and trembling, his dark blue doublet free of any stains. There was a roaring fire, to warm them against the frost building outside. Through a window, I saw another fire in the distance. The Night Court was ablaze. 

And then I heard it. A cry, but not like the shriek of terror from the serving girl, nor was it like Rebekah’s final scream. Nor was it like the wail of suffering that my heart had released when Marius was slain. This was a thin cry, mewling, and hungry. I who had grown up in Naamah’s Temple knew the noise instinctively. It was a babe. I cast my eyes near the fireplace and saw a gilded crib, with a small figure moving beneath many blankets. 

I can only guess how I appeared before the King and Queen, like some kind of nightmare I’m sure, a daemon come to steal their child and bring about their death. Ah Elua, if only it had not been the case. 

I walked to the crib, and saw the babe looking back up at me. 

“This child is yours?”

The Queen nodded, and answered me tremulously, “Yyyyyes, she is our daughter. Our only child. Our heir. Her name is – “

“I do not need to know her name,” I replied. 

"Annalise..." I heard in a whisper.

There was a small voice in my head that reminded me of the dagger that I had fastened to my belt. It was my mission, my sworn duty to end the De la Courcel line tonight. And I had been prepared to do just that. But then she looked me in the eyes, and I saw that she possessed the famed lavender eyes of her ancestors. And she smiled at me and laughed. And I knew I could do nothing of the sort. 

I reached into the crib and drew the princess out, swaddling and all. 

“She will have a chance to regain her throne someday.”

This was all I said. I turned and left the King and Queen alone, content with the knowledge that one of my compatriots would finish the job that I could not. I had lost enough of my soul for one evening, and I knew that no one else would let the child live. 

As I exited their chamber, I saw Gavin on the floor, cradling the body of his brother and weeping. My heart ached, and I longed to go to him and cry together, to share in his pain and try to rebuild what we had lost. But I was resolute. No good would come from that in the end. Let him go, let him go and find a girl who could heal his broken heart, who could ease his pain. I was not that girl, I could not be. 

I squared my jaw and continued walking. I walked all the way out of the palace, past corpses and dismembered bodies. I walked past severed limbs and appendages. I walked through a river of more blood than I had ever seen. Mayhap had I been raised in Valerian or Mandrake, the sight would not have unsettled me so. 

But alas, I was Gentian.


	10. Epilogue

Have you ever watched a city burn? I have. 

I have walked from a palace, and watched as it’s once beautiful edifice crumbled, and fell from this Earth forever. I have heard the screams of the living as they are immolated from behind locked gates. 

I have smelled the rot of death, the charred smell of flesh, as my own hair crimped and singed. 

I walked past The Night Court without stopping. I knew that all I would find there was death. I walked to the Temple of Kushiel, wishing to be shriven, but even before I got there I knew that it was a fool’s errand. Just as in my dream, His bronze statue laid in the ground, torn down by the unfaithful. Or mayhap it was just an innocent victim of a canon. Who can know?

I felt the blood and ash mingle on my face, like a mask of death, and I felt my own teals trail down, leaving streaks like my dead Queen’s. 

I coughed with every breath I took, as the smoke filled my lungs, and yet I could scarcely feel the pain. 

It took me 9 days, but I stopped walking only to sleep. Finally, I reached my destination, the Temple of Elua, in the Siovalese Mountains. 

As soon as I had taken the princess, and fled the city I knew where I was going. I would raise her here myself, as my own child. I was reminded of the tales of the foster son of the great courtesan Phèdre nó Delaunay. 

Imriel De la Courcel, the lost prince, the son of the evil Melisandre Shahrizai, who schemed to take the throne for herself. She too had sent her son to this same temple. But she had erred, and left him unattended. He had been taken captive while he was still a child, and legends say that he survived tortures so terrible that they were not to be spoken of. And then he had returned to Terre D’Ange, and married the rightful heir Sidone de la Courcel as a man, as together they ruled in a Golden Age of peace and love. 

I would take no such chances. I would call the child my own, and raise her under my own watchful eye. Like Prince Imriel, she would have no knowledge of her lineage, but when the time was right, I would enlighten her. I would educate her about the people, and Elua in his mercy. I would teach her to be the benevolent leader that her parents had failed to be. 

Mayhap she too would retake the throne. Or perhaps the time for a monarchy had ended. 

I never completed my marque, somehow it seemed unimportant to me now, though it bears mentioning. It was once a cause for great shame to go about with an unfinished marque, but years later I heard tell that it was now a symbol of those who had survived. 

I was a survivor, though it did not feel like it for a long time. I died that night in the castle beside Marius. When the dagger sank into his heart, in entered mine just as surely. 

Anya de Toluard was what I called the girl, and she grew to be a joyful child, in spite of my somber presence in her life. Though honestly, caring for her did much to bring my heart back into the land of the living. With her long hair, the color of poppies in the summer, and her violet eyes, it is a miracle that no one knew her true lineage, save of course the high Priest, to whom I told the whole story. 

To all others, she was merely my daughter, begotten by my fallen husband before the fight. 

But her story is one to be told by another, for in truth, mine ended the same night as Elua’s Uprising.


End file.
